For 9 days we had no WiFi.

I welcomed the chance

to unplug and

watch my life boom into productivity.


I polished wooden furniture

in my rented room; hoovered

the carpet; read and slept fitfully on a bruised rib.

I wrote lists of to do’s and didn’t write.

For just over a week, from the end of November through to early December, builders came to reset some tiles on the roof. They had to unplug “all the computer wires,” as my landlady put it. I was WiFi-less at home. Glorious! I would do real things and write, lots.

Facebook, Twitter and blog activity dulled while I ticked off domestic chores and baked test rounds of chocolate cake. I read more than my weekly quota of chapters from Pamuk’s “My Name is Red.” (I’m about four chapters from the end, now.) Instead of being online, I was amongst the miniaturist painters of long ago Istanbul. I also went to the GP for a flu jab.

“If you don’t post consistently and regularly on your blog, it will ruin your reputation,“ I’ve read on optimal, pro-blogger advice websites.

You’re not meant to write about life’s banalities either.

Still, I hope you’ll be back sometime. Unless you, too, have unplugged for a bit.

(Follow my more regular comments on writing, culture and life’s banalities on Twitter – @BeadedQuill)